Page 43 of Filthy Rich Brother’s Best Friends (Filthy Rich Harems #5)

One year later

The ocean stretches out beyond our windows—endless blue meeting endless sky.

I stand at the kitchen counter, watching Miles flip another perfect pancake while Reid arranges a platter of fresh fruit.

Lola sits at the island, her legs swinging from the barstool, hair piled messily on top of her head and wearing one of my old t-shirts.

"I still can't believe this is our house," she says, reaching for her coffee.

"Believe it, baby. La Jolla is the bomb,” Reid says, sliding the fruit platter next to her. "And no more psychopath neighbors."

Miles sets a stack of pancakes in front of her. "No more worrying about seeing them when we’re out on the patio or getting the mail."

"No more stolen shirts," I add, kissing the top of her head as I pass.

Lola takes a bite and closes her eyes, making that little sound she always makes when something tastes incredible. "God, these are amazing, Miles."

"The secret is extra vanilla," he says without looking up from the stove.

Reid leans against the counter, coffee mug in hand. "The real secret is that Miles is a control freak who won't let anyone else near his spice rack."

Miles flips him off without turning around.

I grab a plate and load it with pancakes. "Remember when Blaire started that rumor about the studio being sold? Now look at you, Lola—three locations with a fourth opening next month."

Lola's smile lights up the entire kitchen as she looks around at each of us. "I couldn't have done any of this without you guys. You know that, right?"

"Of course not," Reid says with a smirk, popping a strawberry in his mouth. "We're pretty much the reason for your success."

Miles snorts as he flips another pancake. "Absolutely. You'd be lost without us."

"Completely helpless," I add, trying to keep a straight face.

We all bust into laughter, and Lola throws a blueberry at Reid, who catches it in his mouth with cat-like reflexes.

Miles sets down his spatula and walks over to her, pressing a kiss to her temple. "You know we're kidding. Your determination is what got you here. We just helped with the details."

"The VitalCore rebrand was genius," Reid adds, his tone changing to something more serious. "Your vision for what wellness can be—that’s all you, babe."

I slide onto the stool next to her. "The franchising plan is going to take this nationwide. Ten new locations in the next three years."

"Twenty," Miles corrects, returning to his pancakes. "The projections look better than we thought. Investors are lined up after that profile in Entrepreneur."

Lola shakes her head, looking a bit overwhelmed. "Sometimes I can't believe this is my life. I gotta say, I love working on this business, rather than in it. I mean, I still love teaching and I think I always will, but I never want to teach six classes back-to-back ever again.”

Her phone buzzes. She picks it up and reads the text. “Wes and Harper will be here in ten minutes,” she says.

“I still can’t believe those two are a thing,” Miles says.

"Yeah, I'm so happy for them," Lola says, setting her phone down with a smile. "Harper's been my best friend forever, and honestly, I couldn't be happier that they’re together. Six months in and they're still disgustingly cute together."

"Who would've thought," Reid says, grabbing another strawberry. "Your brother finally found someone who can put up with his bullshit."

"Like you're one to talk," Miles mutters.

Lola laughs and takes another bite of pancake. "I was thinking we could spend the day at the beach when they get here. The weather's perfect."

"Good call," I say, already picturing us all sprawled out on the sand, drinking beer and working on our tans.

Miles pulls out his phone and steps away from the stove. "Let me check with the caterer and make sure they're still on for lunch and dinner. I ordered those lobster rolls you like, Lo."

Lola's eyes light up. "You're the best."

Miles holds up a finger as someone answers on the other end. "Hi, yes, this is Miles Camden. I'm calling about the catering order for today..." He walks toward the living room, his voice fading.

Reid refills his coffee and leans against the counter. "So are we setting up the volleyball net, or what?"

"Absolutely," I say. "I'm going to crush all of you."

“You absolutely fucking are not,” Reid responds.

The doorbell chimes through the house, its melodic tone cutting through our banter about volleyball dominance.

"I've got it," I say, setting down my coffee mug and heading toward the entryway.

I swing open the door to find Wes and Harper standing there, both in casual beach attire. Harper's holding a bottle of champagne and Wes has a large gift bag with tissue paper poking out the top.

"Welcome to paradise," I greet them, stepping aside to let them in.

Harper gives me a hug. "Jude! This place is incredible!"

Wes extends his hand for a shake, which I take before pulling him in for a quick bro hug. "Good to see you, man."

"You too," he says, clapping me on the back. "Nice digs."

I hear footsteps behind me as Lola rushes into the foyer. She practically tackles Harper, the two of them squealing and hugging like they haven't seen each other in years, though I know it's only been a couple of weeks.

"You're here!" Lola exclaims, pulling back to look at her friend.

Harper looks around and whistles. “I need a tour, girl. ASAP.”

Wes gives his sister a kiss on the cheek. “How you doin’, sis?”

“Couldn’t be better,” Lola responds.

Reid and Miles appear from the kitchen, both offering handshakes to Wes as Lola links her arm through Harper’s.

"Let us give you the grand tour," Lola says, gesturing toward the living room.

"Lead the way," Harper says, her eyes already wide as she takes in the soaring ceilings of the entryway.

I slip my hand into Lola's free one as we guide them through the archway into the great room. The wall of windows facing the ocean bathes everything in natural light, highlighting the custom woodwork and the enormous stone fireplace that anchors the space.

"Holy shit," Wes breathes, walking straight to the windows. "This view is unreal."

Harper spins slowly, taking in the perfectly arranged furniture—the oversized sectional in buttery leather, the handcrafted coffee table Miles commissioned from that artisan in Portland.

"This is..." she trails off, shaking her head. "Absolutely stunning."

"Wait until you see the kitchen," I say, leading them through the open concept space. “We completely renovated it. The existing kitchen wasn’t bad but we wanted a different feel.”

"We went with a modern coastal vibe," Lola explains as we enter the kitchen. "Miles was pretty specific about what he wanted."

Harper gasps at the waterfall island with its veined quartzite surface. "This kitchen is incredible. Look at that range!"

"Six burners and a griddle," Miles says proudly. "Custom hood, too."

Wes runs his hand along the cabinet edges. "These are solid cherry?"

"Yeah, we found this amazing craftsman who does everything by hand," I tell him.

"The backsplash is gorgeous," Harper says, admiring the handmade ceramic tiles in varying shades of blue. "It's like looking at the ocean."

"That was the idea," Lola smiles. "We wanted to bring the outside in."

Reid opens one of the hidden panel doors. "Check this out—butler's pantry with a wine fridge."

"You guys thought of everything," Harper says, peeking inside.

We move to the dining area where floor-to-ceiling windows frame the coastline perfectly. The massive reclaimed wood table sits beneath a chandelier made of hand-blown glass orbs.

"The table seats twelve," Lola explains. "We wanted space for everyone when we host."

"Come on, let me show you Miles's bedroom suite," Lola says, taking Harper's hand. "It's on this floor and it's absolutely stunning."

"I'm surprised you guys don't fight over who gets the main floor bedroom," Wes comments as we lead them down a hallway lined with framed black and white prints.

Reid chuckles. "We tried rock-paper-scissors, but Miles had very specific reasons why his bedroom needed to be here."

"Acoustic separation and optimal sunrise angles," Miles explains, not a hint of embarrassment in his voice. "Plus I'm usually up first."

I push open the double doors to Miles's suite, revealing the space that perfectly reflects his personality—minimal, precise, but somehow still warm. The king-sized platform bed faces west, where sliding glass doors open onto a private section of the wraparound deck.

"Wow," Harper coos, taking in the built-in bookshelves and the loveseat positioned to capture the view.

"The bathroom is what sold him," Lola says, leading Harper through to the en suite.

"Oh my god," Harper gasps. "That shower is bigger than my first apartment!"

The bathroom is Miles's sanctuary—book-matched marble slabs, a freestanding soaking tub positioned by a window, and a walk-in shower with multiple heads and a built-in bench.

"The water pressure is perfect," Miles says with a grin.

"Alright, enough oohing and aahing over the house. Let's get this beach party started," Reid announces, clapping his hands together. "Everyone get your suits on!"

We all hurry to our rooms to change. I grab my board shorts and a rash guard while Lola slips into that little red bikini that drives all of us crazy.

Within minutes, we're trooping down the private stairs that lead from our deck to the beach below, loaded with towels, coolers, and a volleyball net.

The sand is warm beneath our feet, the kind of perfect temperature that doesn't burn but feels amazing between your toes. Miles spreads out the oversized blankets while Harper helps Wes set up the umbrella.

"Last one in’s a rotten egg!" Reid shouts, already sprinting toward the water. I take off after him, hearing Lola's laughter behind me as she races to catch up.